The G46 sinkhole hummed with deceit. While Unit 099's trio hoarded H7 Zisite in shadowed crevices, Karl's H4 skiff traced concentric patterns overhead, its black-market scanners mapping every gram of stolen wealth.

**// TACTICAL ASSESSMENT //**

- Stolen cache value: 2.14 million credits (current)

- Projected cache value (25 cycles): 9.8 million

- Fatality probability if exposed: 97%

West's neural projections shimmered. [Recommended action: Silent observation protocol.]

Karl's lips curled. Let the thieves stockpile. Their greed would forge his arsenal.

The H4's diamond-tipped bit screamed through lunar regolith, Karl's augmented palms translating micro-vibrations into mineral signatures.

**Karl:** "Mark sector Theta-9. Mohs 7.2 with harmonic resonance."

**West:** [Confirmed. H4-grade Lintie detected. Mass: 2187kg.]

Drill temps spiked to 1400°C as the skiff chewed through metamorphic layers. Karl's combat reflexes adjusted torque ratios in real-time - 23% lateral pressure, 41% axial load.

**// EXTRACTION REPORT //**

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

> Energy consumed: 37 TU

> Time elapsed: 44m 12s

> Yield: H4 Lintie x1 (Valuation: 3,228 credits)

The ore's obsidian surface glimmered with promise. Not Zisite's lethal glitter, but honest labor.

*Priority commlink intercepted (Sender: Lisa Chen - Aex Corp ID#88762)*

The alert blared as Karl secured the Lintie cache. West projected the incoming feed through his occipital implant:

**Lisa:** (Bio-stress markers: 62% cortisol) "Karl! Where are you? And where's Em's cake?"

Her avatar materialized - military-regulation ponytail, Aex Corp insignia freshly polished. Behind her, party streamers clashed with radiation warning signs.

**Karl:** (Vocal modulation: Delta-3 calm) "Convey my regrets. Recent... operational expenditures require compensation."

**Lisa:** (Pupil dilation: +28%) "Cut the corpspeak. Did you two fight?"

**Karl:** "Statistical improbability. Query your friend's relationship matrix."

**Lisa:** (Hyoid muscle tension detected) "She's crying in the lavatory, you ass!"

**Karl:** (Activating memory purge protocol) "Inform her this miner's aspirations exceed atmospheric confines."

**Lisa:** "What the hell does that--"

**Karl:** "Why chase porcelain dolls..." (leaning into cam feed) "...when the stars bleed platinum?"

The transmission died in static.

**《Post-Operational Analysis》**

West's diagnostics flared across the cockpit:

> Cardiac stress markers: 12% above baseline

> Dopamine levels: Combat-ready surge

Karl ejected the Lintie cache with practiced ease. Let Lisa file her reports. Let Em drown in perfume and self-pity. The real war pulsed beneath his boots - a temporal chessboard where miners' lives were pawns, and tomorrow's tragedies today's leverage.

As the H4 ascended through methane clouds, its scanners locked onto three familiar heat signatures still plundering below. Karl's neural lace replayed their every move, every stolen gram, every lethal miscalculation.

The countdown glowed in his peripheral vision:

**25 cycles until harvest.**